by F Stone
Marcus heard her voice more clearly and the certainty in it. His trembling subsided, and he inhaled more deeply. As he exhaled, Sidney asked him to release all his anger and fear. “Let go of all that stuff. It no longer serves you. Replace it with joy. Tell me about a wonderful memory.”
Marcus thought for a while. “I guess it would be the day I met my wife.”
“Good. What kind of day was it?”
“Oh, like none other, to be sure. I remember looking up into the blue sky and watching a few birds, swallows, I think. Lord, they flew with such grace. The sun was so bright, I had to look away for a moment. When I did, there she was.”
Sidney prompted him to tell her more about that day, and they talked as friends for a while. Marcus was gaining control.
“Now, Marcus, I want you to close your eyes and listen to my voice. Know that I can help you on this journey. I’ll place my hand on your chest. You’ll receive the guidance you need. Know that the essence of you isn’t dying, Marcus. You’ll go on. You just need help to get from this place, through a doorway, and on to a greater place. It’s that simple.”
Marcus began to tremble again.
“Marcus, think of the people who love you, how their love feels, how it has always given you strength and courage.”
His trembling eased a little. Sidney lifted her hand, and the sensation of healing energy surged through it into the man’s chest. This same flow of energy also connected her to a world the Guardians understood. She closed her eyes. Allowing her mind to become quiet, she saw the hawk soaring above her mountain home. She heard the hawk calling, guiding her to the place of her higher self.
Suddenly, a figure stood before her. It was a stocky woman with graying hair and a round, cheerful face. Smiling, she said her name was Francis and that she was there to take Buddy home. Sidney acknowledged her and returned her attention to Marcus.
“Marcus, who’s Francis?”
Marcus opened his eyes with a start. “Francis was my grandmother’s name. Why do you ask?”
“She’s here. She said that she came to take Buddy home.”
Marcus grinned. “She always called me Buddy. We were very close.”
Sidney instructed Marcus to close his eyes again and to remember times with his grandmother. He did as she asked. Sidney put her other hand to her chest.
The pistol fired twice. Marcus’ body jerked in a spasm and then slumped forward. The bullets had entered the side of his head and passed through his brain, exiting the opposite side of his skull. Blood ran down from his face onto Sidney’s hand, still resting on his chest.
The ship was silent. No one spoke, there was no expression of any kind. Even the ship’s movement seemed to cease, momentarily suspended in time and space. The officers waited. Sidney’s hand continued to rest on the man’s chest. She appeared to be almost in union with him, both of their figures surrounded with an air of peace.
At last, Sidney opened her eyes and nodded to the officer standing by Marcus’ chair. The doctor examined the prisoner’s body and confirmed he was dead. Without a word, the crew untied him, lifted him onto the gurney, and took him away to the morgue.
Still kneeling on the deck, Sidney saw Sam standing a few feet in front of her. He bent down on one knee and simply looked into her eyes. His gaze touched her in a way she’d never known. She found herself seeing beyond his uniform into the eyes of a man who appeared as powerful and gentle as the energy she called upon.
After a few moments of silence, he resumed his detached and direct manner and told her she could remain on deck a few more minutes. He offered his hand to help her up. The setting sun slipped into the horizon, gathering up what remained of its consoling warmth. Darkness enveloped more than the ship.
The seamen had begun cleaning the blood off the deck. Soon, the ship would again appear simply as another armed merchant ship. No trace of any loss of life. Sam’s comlink earpiece advised him that the admiral was calling. He grabbed hold of Sidney’s arm and swiftly returned to his office with her. He nodded toward his office sink.
“Wash the blood off your hands. Be quick.”
When she finished, Sam motioned for her to sit down in the chair farthest from his desk and out of view of his computer monitor’s receiver. He motioned for her to be quiet. Activating his office comlink, he looked into the monitor.
“Good evening, Admiral. Sorry for the delay in getting back to you. I was in the middle of the Darby execution.”
The admiral paused before saying, “I see. I guess it’s too late, then.”
Sidney noticed that Sam appeared to be holding his breath. He stood motionless in front of his computer monitor staring at Admiral Garland’s face.
“Too late for what, sir?”
“I’ve just been informed that the bombs Darby planted were harmless. Only duds, but I doubt he knew that.”
“Admiral! Do you realize what I just did! I just executed a man that did little more than trespass.” Sam used every ounce of strength in his body to keep under control. The muscles in his face were tight from clenching his jaw. Sam began to pace. “God, I just committed murder.”
“Like hell, Sam. Don’t go overboard. The man committed a terrorist act.”
Sam snarled back. “You can paint it any which way you like, Admiral Garland. How many of the others — ”
“Captain, watch your step. Need I remind you of your shady past? You could be dead or rotting in a jail and your sons in some foster home. I gave you the benefit of a doubt — more than any other reasonable man in my position would’ve done. That can change, Captain Waterhouse. As long as you follow my orders, you’ll have your rank and your sons will enjoy a good life.”
Sidney couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d wondered before if Sam was on a path not of his own choosing. Now it was obvious that Admiral Garland had full control of him.
Sam turned his back to the admiral and yelled over his shoulder. “You’ll have my usual report in the morning. Waterhouse out!”
Silence took command of the captain’s office. Sam went to his window and stared out into the night’s void while Sidney waited for the razor sharp tension to soften. Sam crashed into near despair, and even though his back was to Sidney, she sensed his intense regret. He stood motionless and spoke to her only through his aura. It was saturated with pain and hopelessness. It left Sidney confused. She’d never thought of him as anything but in control, unmoved by circumstances, always knowing his next move.
Still gazing out his window, Sam finally spoke. “So, Sidney, do you still believe that man is cut from the same cloth as you?”
She got up from her chair and stood beside him. “Yes, without any doubt. It’s not a belief. It’s a knowing. Like I know in every plain, hard seed, a beautiful flower lies sleeping, dormant until awakened under the right conditions. It’s just a matter of time.”
Glancing in her direction, Sam almost smiled. “You sound like a poet.”
Sidney felt uncomfortable. She had an impulse to offer more than encouraging words. He was so close and now seemed more human than ever. He needed comforting arms to embrace him. Her hands reached up toward his arms. He stepped away, and his rule book sprung up from out of nowhere.
“I’m interested in discussing your behavior with the prisoner.”
“I thought you might be.”
“You seemed quite effective in calming him. What were you doing?”
“I gave him some techniques I use in meditation. It brings you more in focus with the present moment and less with the next. And I helped him remember a special moment in his life, something that gave him comfort. The mind is a powerful tool.”
“I see. There was more going on that just that. What were you doing with your hands?”
“You mean when I put my hand on his chest?”
“Yes. That looked like it had special meaning.”
“It was a transfer of energy. Some people call it Reiki. My hand was channeling healing energy from the universe t
o Marcus. It provided comfort and a connection.” Sidney noticed Sam eyebrows raise in surprise. “The best way to understand it is to experience it. May I?”
She lifted one hand toward his chest.
He hesitated, and then reluctantly agreed.
“Here, sit down in your chair.” With Sam seated, Sidney knelt down beside him and laid her right hand on his chest. It was her first contact with him on such a personal level. “Close your eyes.”
Again he raised his eyebrows.
“Trust, Captain. I won’t harm you in any way. I promise.”
Sam closed his eyes.
“Now take a few slow, deep breaths. Focus only on your breathing. Follow your breath into your lungs and on to the rest of your body. See your breath as a soothing river that revitalizes and nourishes your entire body.” Sam followed her instructions.
Sidney wasn’t sure how long this stoic military man would put up with being held in this position. As the seconds passed into minutes, the muscles in his face relaxed and his hands fell to his side. His breathing became slower. Sidney decided to see if Sam would permit her to take him to another level.
“If you wish, this is a time when you can receive a message or even send one.”
He briefly opened his eyes. “What kind of message?”
“Whatever’s in your heart.”
Sam gazed at her thoughtfully for a while. Again his eyes closed.
Sidney rose and stood behind him. She placed both her hands on his shoulders. The universal life force energy surged through her hands. She felt her body become light and filled with surreal calm. Sam’s head fell back and rested against her. For over twenty minutes, she stood there, occasionally repositioning her hands on his upper body.
Sam drew in a sudden breath and woke. Sidney slowly lifted her hands and stepped back. She knelt down in front of him again.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
Sam turned away. Speechless, he focused on nothing, his mind still taking in the journey he’d just experienced.
“Fine. Thank you. That was … interesting. Like you say, you have to experience it to understand this energy thing.” His mind was becoming focused again. “So, how did you acquire this skill, Sidney?”
“One doesn’t need to acquire it. Everyone has this ability to varying degrees. You do, Captain.”
Sam sat up straight, regaining his control. “Not likely!”
“Would you like to try?”
“Some other time, perhaps. It’s time you returned to your cell. I’ve had enough of this day.”
He activated his comlink and told Bridges to get Sidney. Sidney grabbed the bag of clothes and walked toward the reception room’s door.
“Something just occurred to me, Captain.”
“What’s that?”
“The problem with rules. My mother died, at least in part, because I chose not to follow her rules. Marcus died because you chose to follow the admiral’s. It would appear as though much of this is out of our hands. Don’t you think?”
Sam shut off his computer and got up. “You always this deep?” For a while he just stood near her. “I hope you know you’re giving me one hell of a problem here.”
She frowned. “What do you mean, Captain?”
Bridges knocked on the door, and instead of answering her question, Sam opened the door and sent Sidney back to her cell.
The demeanor of Sidney’s escorts was cold, more like that of machines than men. No words, no contact, no emotion of any kind. Sidney knew they were behind her only through the sound of their boots. They had shut down, trying to not be touched by the death they’d witnessed earlier. Perhaps, too, the executed prisoner’s quiet acceptance troubled them.
“Good night, gentlemen,” Sidney said as she stepped into the darkness of her cell.
The door shut with a thump.
Inside, Sidney found herself moved by the day’s events: the argument with the captain; the revelation that the captain’s wife had been involved with, and killed working for, Badger, who was now also murdered; the death of Marcus. In one short day, her growth had propelled her light years forward. She reflected on the past few days and barely recognized herself. With each confrontation she’d given in to fear and anger. Tomorrow, Sidney Iris Davenport would hold the sacred truths as firmly to her chest as Captain Waterhouse held to his rule book. It would surely come to pass that one would have to give up his or her dogma. She hoped it wouldn’t be her.
15. Sidney’s Execution
Wednesday Morning, July 10, En Route to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii: The next morning Sam awoke early as usual and jogged along the Nonnah’s main deck. It had been six days since Sidney had arrived on his ship. He’d planned to be rid of her by now. Sweat began to drip down his chest. With each stride he recalled the unexpected twists and turns of the interrogation sessions — and Sidney.
Her strange ways had often caused him to lose sight of his objective. He’d even discouraged the admiral from initiating the execution order. It annoyed him how his life aboard the Nonnah had become unpredictable. Every day something bizarre occurred. The Nonnah sailing through storm unscathed, the prisoner’s rapid healing, the hawk’s feather, the visit with Paulo, the constant changing of his crystal’s position. Then there was Sidney’s demonstration of her ability to unlock doors. And, the energy thing — Reiki she called it.
Perhaps, Sam thought, if Sidney was eliminated all these disturbing phenomena would end. He almost craved the monotony of the days before Sidney. Anesthetized by boredom, he could tolerate the admiral’s paranoia and the endless string of executions.
On the other hand, the possibility that he could use Sidney as a means of freeing himself from the admiral was too tempting to ignore. He doubted she’d agree to an alliance with the admiral in exchange for Sam’s freedom, but a ruse might be possible. If he could gain the admiral’s confidence, it would work. He’d have to get rid of Butchart though. The man had too much influence. Somehow, Sam needed to make the admiral question Butchart’s loyalty.
Sam thought back to the connection of some type which seemed to be present between Sidney and Butchart. He’d not pursued that query, but now a plan swirled in his mind. He could see at last the possibility of grabbing his sons and disappearing from the admiral’s suffocating grasp. A twinge of guilt pricked at him. Sidney would be in the midst of the crossfire. So be it!
Sam returned to his office to find the admiral had sent an urgent coded e-mail. It was an order to execute Sidney before midnight that very day. Instead of being intrigued by her telekinesis, the admiral had come to the conclusion that she was too great a risk to keep alive any longer. And perhaps Butchart had been deliberately feeding the admiral’s paranoia.
The hope of acquiring his freedom, hazy as it was, vaporized. But his disappointment was mollified by his sense of relief. The awkward pretense of benevolence was over, and so were the endless questions without answers, as well as the disruption of his meticulous routine. When Sidney arrived for her breakfast, Sam was more abrupt than ever.
Briefly making eye contact, he said, “You have fifteen minutes to eat.”
He motioned her to go to the boardroom and continued with the business at his desk. When she returned, he ordered her to sit down. Holding the admiral’s communiqué in his hand, he hesitated. It wasn’t as easy to notify her of the execution plans as he’d thought it would be. She sat anxiously on the edge of her chair, wearing her new clothes.
The lavender blouse and white shorts were a good fit as far as Sam could tell without making an obvious examination of her figure. He tried not to notice her long slender legs or how the color of the lavender blouse complimented her pale green eyes.
Sidney eyed him suspiciously. “There’s trouble, isn’t there, Captain?”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re way too quiet. That paper in your hand, is it from the admiral?”
“Yes. He’s ordered that you be executed before midnight today.”
&nb
sp; She gasped and braced herself with her hands holding firmly onto the front edge of the chair seat. She took a calming breath and gazed down at her bare feet.
Sam remained silent, waiting for more of a reaction. He expected fear, hostility, or crying, something more than passive acceptance.
She continued to avoid eye contact with him and remained deep in thought. Her face revealed only a solemn expression.
Focused on the paper in Sam’s hand, she asked, “Can I see it?”
Sam handed her the decoded communiqué. She read it and nodded. Returning the paper to Sam, she asked, “What are your plans?”
“You’ll be executed according the protocol — at sunset.”
“Lieutenant Bridges?”
“Yes.”
“Will you be there?”
“Of course.”
Sidney nodded.
“Do you have any special requests?”
“Two. I’d rather get this over with as soon as possible. Before it gets too hot. Sometime before lunch. Won’t feel like eating anyway.”
“Yes. And the second?”
“If Lorna doesn’t mind, I’d like her to be with me. Just be near. Do you think she’d mind?”
“I’ll ask her. Anything else?”
“No.”
“Sidney, for the last time. Is there anything you can tell me that would give me enough reason to reject this order? It would have to be significant.”
She got up and went to the window. He swiveled his chair to watch her. She gazed at the ocean’s horizon.
“No.” She glanced back at Sam and grinned. “Unless you resign from the navy.”
Sam sat back in his chair and leaned on one arm. Again she’d managed to throw him a curve.
“You mean if I were to step out of this uniform?”
“Please, Captain. You know how easily I blush,” she teased.
“How can you make jokes when you’re just hours from being executed?”
She returned her focus to the ocean. “Trust me, Captain, I’m not looking forward to it. But I see the death of the body only as a release of my attachment to the physical world. I’ll simply return to my true home. The timing seems off, but I trust in the higher power. I thought … it seems too soon.” She turned back to Sam with her arms crossed over her chest and grinned. “So, tell me, Captain, what happens when you step out of your uniform?”
